By Pueros

‘Salus populi suprema lex.’

(‘The safety of the State is the highest law.’)

- Byzantine Emperor Justinian I

Chapter I – Memoir

(Imperial Villa near Neapolis [modern Naples], Italy, Byzantine Empire, summer 573 CE)

I am now a very old man, who is surely on the brink of death. However, I do not fear soon meeting my God.

I am now extremely feeble and almost blind. For example, I can no longer see, as I used to be able to do, Mons [Latin for Mount – Pueros] Vesuvius, which was near to the scene of a major event in my life, from my current vantagepoint, namely the garden of my retirement villa near Neapolis [modern Naples – Pueros].

I am forced to rely on my loyal slaves to keep me alive, comfortable and informed. I consequently believe that my body is ready for the relief from such a sorry state that death will bring.

My mind, though, still appears lucid. This better circumstance is why I am now finally narrating the story of my long life to a scribe. My poor vision sadly means that I can no longer personally write.

I generally narrate whilst comfortably seated in the warm sunshine of my villa’s pleasant garden, with a blanket covering my aged knees and legs. Some worthy wine is usually at hand, whilst my still-keen ears can appreciate the nice background sounds of birds, bees and crickets, plus the sea washing the nearby shore of the Bay of Neapolis.

I now narrate my autobiography, whilst I am still capable, in the hope that my history might be of interest to someone in the future. There are perhaps lessons to be learnt from my story, particularly for those who, like me, suffered early in life a catastrophic setback.

I have to confess, however, that, despite this early catastrophic setback, another reason for not now fearing death is that my life has not only been long but also for most of the time interesting and successful, with my current sorry physical decline only coming very late. I therefore think that I have been very lucky compared with most people and so should not really regret that the lengthy adventure will finally soon end.

The main reason, though, for not fearing my imminent meeting with my Maker is that I sincerely believe that in my life I have served Him well by serving well His Sons on Earth, the resurrected Christs, three Byzantine Emperors.

Chapter II – Catastrophe

(Greater Aršarunik [in modern times the plain on both sides of the upper reaches of the River Aras, split between Turkey & Armenia], Persian Marzpanate of Armenia, 90 years previously, summer 483 CE)

I began my service for my first resurrected Christ, the new Byzantine Emperor Anastasius I, eighty-two years ago when I was a mere boy of thirteen. However, I did not arrive in the Imperial capital of Constantinople [modern Istanbul, Turkey – Pueros] to serve him from another part of his Empire.

I arrived instead from Greater Aršarunik in eastern Armenia. Unfortunately, my homeland had sadly by then been part of the Persian Empire for just over a century.

I am proud to say that my homeland of Armenia had, when still an independent kingdom, become in 301 CE, 190 years before my arrival in Constantinople, the first country in the world to adopt Christianity as the official state religion. My nation did so almost three decades prior to Constantine I doing the same with the Roman Empire.

Unfortunately, adoption of Christianity displeased the Zoroastrian-worshipping Sassanid Shahs of neighbouring Persia, who already had covetous designs towards my country. My homeland covered the huge Armenian plateau, plus central and eastern Anatolia and the south-west Caucasus, an area that spread from the Black to the Caspian Seas. My people occupied the highlands overlooking Syria and Mesopotamia to the south and were consequently in a strategic position to dominate these lowlands. Many of us also lived in very fertile and therefore agriculturally rich valleys and at major crossroads of the world, straddling the vital trade routes from China, India, Persia and Arabia in the east to the Byzantine Empire in the west.

As a result, Armenia was envied by neighbours and, with the expansion of the Empire of Rome eastwards, inevitably became an area of contention between the Romans, and their successors the Byzantines, on one side and the Persians on the other. The country was finally conquered and divided between them just over a century before my arrival in Constantinople.

Eastern Armenia, including Greater Aršarunik, then fell under the suzerainty of the Zoroastrian-worshipping Sassanid Shahs. I was therefore later born into a conquered and divided country, with my home area part of a Persian Province, or ‘Marzpanate’, ruled by foreigners of pagan faith, whilst the west of my nation was now part of the Christian Byzantine Empire.

Nevertheless, I was born in Greater Aršarunik on an Armenian nobleman’s large estate. The Persians had allowed my country’s ancient aristocracy, or ‘Nakharar’, of which I am a proud member, to retain their lands and privileges, including their own small armies, in return for their co-operation in maintaining order.

In fact, the Persians, under their Provincial Governor, or ‘Marzpan’, allowed the local population, mainly through the Nakharar, considerable autonomy. The offices of ‘Hazarapet’ and ‘Sparapet’, respectfully principal minister and army commander-in-chief, were awarded to Armenians, as were key judicial, education and tax-collecting posts.

The Persians also allowed the development of the distinctive Armenian alphabet. However, I suspect that they did so mainly to encourage a cultural split with the rival Byzantine Empire.

With the Byzantine Empire being Christian and possessing the other half of Armenia, most of the people living in the eastern Marzpanate looked west for cultural, including religious, affinity rather than south towards the Persians. The Sassanid Shahs had forlornly hoped that the development of the distinctive national alphabet, which was so different from the Latin and Greek ones, would help to break this attitude but the ties actually only grew stronger.

Greater Aršarunik is essentially the plain on both sides of the upper reaches of the River Araxes [in modern times the plain on both sides of the upper reaches of the River Aras, split between Turkey & Armenia - Pueros], dominated by my noble clan, the Kamsarakans. My proud family is an important offshoot of the Arsacids, who at one time formed the Armenian royal house.

The Kamsarakans had long since divided our home region amongst four different branches of the clan. The resultant quartet of lands were named Abełeank, Gabełeank, Hawnunik and Lesser Aršarunik.

I was my parent’s eldest child and was named after my father, who was head of our clan. He held the princely title of ‘Ishkhan’.

Members of the Nakharar invariably respect the ascendancy of a head of a clan, who is normally termed a ‘Nahapet’. However, my father’s more important title reflected our family’s royal connections and consequent higher status within the aristocracy.

As my parent’s eldest son, I should, of course, have inherited my father’s status and title on his death. However, something catastrophic was to happen to prevent such a succession.

My grandfather, Aršavir, had, well before my birth and forty years prior to my arrival in Constantinople, led our Kamsakaran clan into joining with other Nakharar families in an anti-Persian insurrection. The revolt had been in reaction to the attempt, amidst many other anti-Christian policies within his Empire, by the fifteenth Sassanid Shah, Yazdegerd II, to force all members of the eastern Armenian Church to cut all ties with their Byzantine counterparts.

The insurgent army, over 60,000 strong and under the command of the Sparapet, Vartan Mamikonian, head of a noble clan even more prestigious than my own and who was later to be canonised by the Armenian Church, was, however, defeated at the Battle of Avarayr. The opposing Persian forces, as well as being about three times bigger, were also boosted by treacherous defectors from the rebels and the deployment of war elephants and the elite Savārān cavalry.

Amongst the many Armenian dead were Vartan Mamikonian and eight of his generals. However, their sacrifice was not in vain.

The Persians proved magnanimous in defeat. Having respected the courage shown by the Armenians and their leaders in battle, the victors took no major reprisals for the revolt but instead, for a while at least, mollified the root cause by moderating their policies towards the local Christian Church.

As a result, my people subsequently came to view the Battle of Avarayr of 451 CE as a moral victory. Consequently, the annual anniversary of the date of the battle on the 26th of May is now celebrated as a revered Holy Day in my homeland [and still is - Pueros].

My grandfather, Aršavir, fortunately survived the Battle of Avarayr. I would not have been narrating this personal history otherwise because my own father was not born until a few years later.

An uneasy peace subsequently lasted for over thirty years in Armenia. However, further rebellion against Persian rule broke out when I was a mere 4 year-old infant in 482 CE.

The trigger for this rebellion was on this occasion not religious persecution but a revolt in the neighbouring Persian vassal Kingdom of Kartli, known to the Greeks, Romans and Byzantines as Iberia, which should not be confused with the peninsula of the same name in the western Mediterranean. This country was immediately to the north of Armenia [and is essentially modern Georgia – Pueros] and had unilaterally proclaimed independence.

Shah Yazdegerd II had by now been succeeded by his son, Peroz I. In reaction to the unilateral declaration of independence from Persia in Kartli, this king immediately despatched the Marzpan of Armenia with his army to crush the rebellion.

The sudden absence of the Marzpan and his Persian army, though, subsequently tempted the Armenians to declare their own independence and at first the rebellion went well. My grandfather, Aršavir, participated in this early success because he again led our Kamsakaran clan into joining the revolt, whose leader was Vartan Mamikonian’s nephew, Vahan.

On this occasion, my own father was at Aršavir’s side as he went to war. He left me, his 4 year-old son, behind with my mother on our large family estate.

In the following year, however, Shah Peroz I sent a mighty army led by his best general to crush the revolt in Armenia and the result of this Persian campaign was for me, a mere 5 year-old infant at the time, to prove to be initially catastrophic and definitely life-changing.

Chapter III – Peace

(Nvarsak, north-west Persia [modern Iran], over 1 year later, winter 484 CE)

After crushing the rebellions in both Kartli and Armenia, Shah Peroz I had launched a campaign against the intermittently troublesome Hephthalites, who occupied lands to the north-east of the Persian Empire [modern Afghanistan and north-west Pakistan – Pueros]. These people were otherwise known as the ‘White Huns’ and were originally nomads from Central Asia.

Peroz I and a small Persian force were, however, tricked by the Hephthalites into an ambush near Balkh [in modern northern Afghanistan – Pueros] and the Shah was killed in the ensuing fight. He was succeeded as King of Kings by his brother, Balash.

Meanwhile, the rebels in my homeland, many of whom, including my father and grandfather, had been forced to flee into Byzantine Armenia, attempted to make use of the change of Persian King by revitalising their revolt. In response, Shah Balash decided to seek a peaceful compromise with them so that he could concentrate on defeating the Hephthalites.

The result was the Treaty of Nvarsak. This agreement was named after the small village in north-west Persia where the peace was signed.

The Treaty restored Vahan and his allies, including my father and grandfather, to their titles and lands. Religious freedom and greater autonomy were also guaranteed, with the former rebel leader even succeeding as Marzpan in the following year, which was a position that he was to hold for two decades.

I, however, now a 6 year-old, no longer had a proper place in contemporary Armenian society.

Chapter IV – Arrival

(Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], almost 7 years later, summer 491 CE)

Almost seven years were to pass, though, before I could find another society in which I was welcome. In the interim, my parents, who still loved me despite the catastrophe that had befallen me and had long planned my exchange of Empires, had ensured that I gained an excellent education.

I was taught by the best available tutors in a wide range of topics and, without wanting to be boastful, I have to suggest that they had a pupil who proved worthy of their efforts. I was a highly conscientious and capable learner, who, by the time that my parents considered me ready for my new life, was not just literate in Armenian, Greek and Latin, as well as fully numerate. I was also well-read and exhibited talent in many other subjects, amongst which I especially enjoyed studying military matters.

At the age of just thirteen, my parents therefore considered me ready to embark upon my adult career. I left my homeland and the Persian Empire, never to return, for faraway Constantinople, where I arrived in mid-summer.

With western Armenia now being an apparently happy integral part of the Byzantine Empire, people of my nationality were common in Constantinople. Many had gone to the capital to seek rewarding careers in Imperial service and many had succeeded in doing so.

One invaluable qualification apart from ability, though, in securing a good position in Imperial service was to be of noble birth. Members of the Armenian aristocracy therefore had a clear advantage over their fellow countrymen when seeking such posts.

Members of my extended clan were not immune to seeking fame and fortune in the Byzantine Emperor’s service and, fortunately for me, one of my father’s many cousins had risen to an important position in the vast government bureaucracy. He had become a top official in the Imperial chancery, which was responsible for archives, and his influence and my clear learning and love of books were sufficient to gain for me a junior post there.

I was appointed at just thirteen to a junior position helping to look after the Imperial archives.

Chapter V – Spymaster

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], about 27 years later, 10th July 518 CE)

I have to confess that I had a fortunate head start when, as a 13 year-old boy, I entered the service of the Byzantine Emperors. My initial position was only secured as a result of being from an important provincial noble clan, with links to former royalty, the good luck of having a well-connected relative already in Constantinople and associated family nepotism.

I contend, however, that my subsequent steady rise in the Byzantine civil service was mainly due to ability and not further favouritism. Despite some examples of snobbish deference to those of aristocratic background and linked nepotism, the bureaucracy was also essentially a meritocracy and so few incompetents prospered far.

Being of humble birth was no detriment to anyone of outstanding ability for progress in Imperial service. An excellent contemporary example of this fact was the new Byzantine Emperor, Justin I, who succeeded the childless Anastasius I on the 10th of July 518 CE when I was forty years old.

Justin was of Illyrian peasant stock, having been born near Naissus [modern Niš, Serbia, with ancient Illyria forming much of the former Yugoslavia – Pueros]. He had, when young and with two companions, fled his homeland, which was being invaded and pillaged by barbarian Ostrogoths, to seek refuge in Constantinople.

In Constantinople, Justin, an uneducated and illiterate refugee but highly confident and capable, joined the Imperial army. He later astutely transferred to the Excubitors, who were an elite 300-strong regiment of palace guards newly formed by Byzantine Emperor Leo I.

There were other regiments of palace guards. However, they became mainly decorative, with the only effective fighting force amongst them being the Excubitors.

Justin subsequently gradually rose through the ranks through pure ability, freeing and marrying a slave-girl and former concubine, Lupicina, along the way. He eventually became Anastasius I’s ‘Comes Excubitorum’, or Commander of the Excubitors, and at the age of sixty-eight he used this powerful position to grab the throne on the childless Emperor’s death.

My own rise through the bureaucratic ranks was not so vertiginous but was nevertheless steep, aided by my bookish ability to collate and interpret, as well as maintain productive sources for, copious information successfully. Such an attribute, along with my clear unswerving loyalty to the Emperor of the day, Anastasius I, caused my career to gravitate, perhaps rather naturally, towards data key to the security of my Imperial master and the state.

My nominal official title now, at the age of forty, was that of ‘Cartularius’, a senior state archivist. I had also been honoured with appointment by Anastasius I to the order of ‘Spectabiles’, the second-highest rank of Imperial Senator.

I am happy to relate that my continued tenure of both positions was confirmed by Justin I on the day of his accession. The new Emperor was clearly happy with me and my work, and not just because we had worked closely and successfully together in the past in Anastasius I’s interests. I had also just provided him with vital assistance to secure his throne.

I did so because, of the various realistic potential rivals for the throne, none appeared to me to be of the same calibre as Justin and therefore as capable of ruling as competently. He also had the benefit of the support of an exceptionally talented loyal nephew, also an officer in the Excubitors.

I had known Justin’s nephew very well for a number of years. We had also worked closely and successfully in the past in Anastasius I’s interests.

I believed that, as a team, Justin and his nephew would serve the Empire well. One reason why I was able to make this judgement confidently resulted from my official position.

Despite having the rather innocuous title of Cartularius, I was in reality now the Byzantine Empire’s secret chief spymaster.

Chapter VI – Nephew

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], previous day, 9th July 518 CE)

The imminent sad demise, at the advance age of eighty-seven, of Anastasius I, who had the peculiarity of possessing one black and one blue eye, became apparent on the 9th of July 518 CE. The Emperor was childless, with his nearest surviving relatives being three nephews.

Anastasius I, however, fully appreciated that these nephews possessed character faults that might make them bad Emperors. He also could not, or deliberately chose not to, identify anyone else within the court hierarchy who should succeed him.

Consequently, Anastasius I chose not nominate or give his blessing as his successor to anyone. The dying Emperor instead left the decision to chance.

Anastasius I perhaps believed that whoever eventually subsequently emerged as Emperor must have somehow shown himself to be the strongest candidate and so his most worthy successor. If so, his judgement proved correct.

I was aware from my position of spymaster that various plots had been hatched by the potential candidates to grab the throne after Anastasius I’s death. I had long since done my duty for the dying Emperor by infiltrating informers into the ranks of these men’s supporters in order to ensure that my Imperial master expired naturally and not as a result of assassination in a coup.

Amongst the various plots, I knew of the scheming of the Imperial High Chamberlain, Amantius. Holders of his exalted position were now always eunuchs in order to prevent them from using their powers to launch their own bids for the throne.

Because Amantius could not, as a eunuch, aspire for the throne himself, he was championing the candidature of Theocritus, who was the weak and pliable commander of one of the other decorative regiments of palace guards. The High Chamberlain undoubtedly did so because he hoped to become the real power behind the throne.

Amantius had already gone so far as to bribe Justin with copious gold in order to gain his support and that of the Excubitors and the Comes Excubitorum initially appeared ready to support the High Chamberlain’s scheme. However, I then intervened.

I did so not by speaking directly to Justin because I fully appreciated that, despite our past successful collaborations in Anastasius I’s cause, I would have little influence over him in current circumstances. I talked instead to his highly capable 35 year-old nephew.

Justin’s nephew, born Petrus Sabbatius, was also of Illyrian peasant stock. However, his uncle, having established himself comfortably in Constantinople, had summoned him to the city as a boy so that he could benefit from the education and career opportunities available in the Imperial capital.

As a result, Justin’s nephew was, unlike his still illiterate uncle, very well educated and he also exhibited talent in using his wide knowledge professionally. His subsequent similar entry into and rise within the ranks of the Excubitors were therefore not just down to nepotism.

In our secret talk, I appraised Justin’s nephew, who had long since been formally adopted by his uncle and in the process awarded a new adoptive name, about what I knew about the various plots, especially Amantius’ scheming, which appeared to me to be the most likely to succeed. I also told him that I was unhappy at the prospect of Theocritus becoming Emperor whilst the High Chamberlain undoubtedly retained the real power. I additionally advised him why I did not relish the prospect, which genuinely did not involve any concern about my own position.

I had taken great care to conceal my activities in respect of all of my espionage targets and not to make enemies by any other means. Also, none of my informers in their entourages would have wanted to reveal themselves as traitors to their cause. Additionally, I had no intent, for the future safety of such spies, of passing their details on to my successor.

Consequently, the worst that I personally feared from a new regime was being shunted into another bureaucratic post, albeit undoubtedly a more harmless and less influential one, or retired, whilst being replaced by someone of known loyalty to the new men in power. I was genuinely not so over-protective of my position or inspired by any concerns for my life that such worries motivated me to seek to manipulate the succession. My only interest was that of the security of the state, as had been the case throughout my stewardship of the Imperial secret service.

I sincerely believed that Amantius was hungry for greater power only for his own further aggrandisement. I was sure that he would misuse his influence to the Empire’s detriment.

I also informed Justin’s nephew of the reasons why Anastasius I himself considered his three nephews to be unworthy successors. From the evidence related, the dying Emperor’s judgement appeared impeccable to both of us.

“But who do you think could worthily succeed, Cartularius?” Justin’s nephew eventually rather innocently asked. This question suggested to me that neither his uncle nor him had at this time any personal aspiration for the throne, perhaps because they considered that their peasant origins might disqualify them.

I consequently decided to plant personal ambition in the minds of both Justin and his nephew by answering “You!” I also quickly added, though, in response to the beginning of spluttered return protestations, “But I acknowledge that your current rank does not make you a realistic candidate.”

“However,” I continued, “the same problem does not arise in your uncle’s case and, if he became Emperor, as I recommend should happen, you, as his adopted son, would be clear heir to the throne.” The initial response now from Justin’s nephew was just a dropping of a jaw and silence, as the enormity of what I was suggesting sank into a normally bright but currently obviously stunned mind.

I therefore made use of the silence of Justin’s nephew by dispelling the quietude with verbal reasons for my view, including quashing any doubts about suitability because of the peasant background and illiteracy of my proposed candidate for Emperor, and an explanation of how the aim could be achieved. I was listened to politely until I had finished.

Justin’s nephew, clearly fully recovered from his initial shock and completely convinced by my arguments, then simply asked “How can I help?” I answered him and in response he soon left my presence to begin implementing our plot, starting with convincing his uncle that he should accept this chance to become Emperor.

I can truly add that the motive for instituting this plot was not selfish but the opposite because my only interest was the Empire’s welfare. I also believe that Justin’s nephew and eventually convinced uncle subsequently participated mainly for the same reasons and not just out of Amantius-like hunger for substantially increased status and power.

By the way, the adoptive name of Justin’s nephew was Justinian.

Chapter VII – Plot

(Hippodrome, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], next day, 10th July 518 CE)

After the anticipated death of Anastasius I on the night of the 9th of July 518, Senators and other high officials, including the Church Patriarch, met in the Imperial Palace in Constantinople on the next day in order to debate the succession. Meanwhile, the ordinary citizenry of the city gathered in the adjacent vast municipal hippodrome to hear the result of these deliberations.

As part of the plot agreed with Justinian and subsequently his uncle, I sent some of my spies to sit amongst the populace in the hippodrome. Their job was to stir up impatience and discontent at the length of time the Senators and other high officials were taking in the adjacent Imperial Palace to decide the succession, which I had correctly judged would be prolonged.

My spies did well and so, as planned, Justinian next sent the Excubitors to the hippodrome, ostensibly to restore order. However, after doing so and as the concluding part of our scheme, the palace guards also ardently began to call for the elevation of their Commander to the throne. The populace present, impatient for the decision, quickly concurred with equal enthusiasm.

The Senate and other high officials soon became aware of the people’s apparent candidate. Fearing revolt if they did not acquiesce, and mindful that the Comes Excubitorum commanded the only capable soldiers on duty in Constantinople, the hierarchy now rapidly decided to agree to this popular demand.

Not long afterwards, a crowd of Excubitors entered the hippodrome and slowly stepped aside to reveal, to joyous cheering from the spectators, Justin in the middle. The new Emperor, despite feigning modest reluctance to accept his new role, was already attired in full Imperial regalia.

My plan had worked perfectly and I gained particular satisfaction from the fact that Amantius’ gold had not been used to bribe the Excubitors to support Theocritus but instead to raise their own Commander to the throne.

Chapter VIII – Counter-coup

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], 9 days later, 19th July 518 CE)

I have to confess that I subsequently also played a rather ruthless role in the culling of some of the new Emperor’s rivals for the throne, such as the death nine days later of both Amantius and Theocritus. I had become aware by then that they were quietly refusing to accept the accession of Justin I and were plotting a counter-coup.

I therefore informed Justinian, whom Justin I had promoted to command one of the guards regiments, of the unarguable evidence. He immediately ordered the pair arrested and executed.

For the stability of the Empire, I cannot say that I regretted the deaths of such plotters.

Chapter IX - Wife

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], about 3 years later, summer 521 CE)

Over the next three years, other furtive plans of mine in the interests of the Emperor and Empire had also come to fruition. I have to reveal that not all might be considered honourable schemes because, for the welfare of the state and the greater good, I was prepared to be ruthlessly ungentlemanly.

One of these less honourable plans involved finally ending the career of a highly disruptive and often rebellious provincial general, Vitalian, who had first caused trouble during Anastasius I’s reign and was threatening to do so again. He was dealt with by Justin I offering him, at my suggestion, the position of Consul, which, having been the pinnacle of power in the Roman Republic, was now just an honour, albeit a great one, awarded annually, and the much more significant post of army commander-in-chief, plus a palace in Constantinople.

On Vitalian’s eventual appearance in Constantinople, I allowed him a decent amount of time to enjoy his new status before having him quietly assassinated. I also arranged his death in such a way that the blame could be pointed at any of the numerous enemies whom he had accumulated over his lifetime and not just at the new Emperor. He was succeeded as Consul and army commander-in-chief by Justinian, for whom the positions were always sometime intended.

What was not intended for Justinian was the identity of the woman whom he eventually decided he wanted to marry. His uncle, and more especially Justin I’s wife and Empress, the ex-slave Lupicina, now more nobly renamed Euphemia to suit her new high status, disapproved of his choice, so much so that I was initially ordered by them to arrange her disappearance.

The situation was made more difficult for me because, a few weeks previously, I had some involvement in introducing Justinian to the woman with whom he would quickly become completely obsessed to the annoyance of Emperor and Empress.

Chapter X - Actress

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], a few weeks previously, summer 521 CE)

I had spies working for me throughout not only the Imperial Palace and Constantinople but also the whole Byzantine Empire. One of these, whom I considered invaluable, was a female dancer in Antioch in Syria, whose stage-name was ‘Macedonia’, after her homeland, and who was a member of a dancing troupe linked to the Blues’ chariot-racing faction.

In ancient Rome, four main teams contested chariot races, namely the Blues, Greens, Reds and Whites, all with fanatical followers. However, by now in the Constantinople of the successor Byzantine Empire, only the first two remained important, and their significance and that of their factional supporters had become rather profound for they had developed lucrative interests and immense influence in many other activities not connected to horses.

Macedonia had spent her early life as a dancer of a troupe linked to the Blues’ faction in Constantinople. She now helped to keep me informed about anyone and anything that might cause trouble for the Emperor in her part of Syria.

One summer’s day, I was sitting in my office within the Imperial Palace, innocently planning the ruthless destruction of enemies of the state, when my personal slave interrupted me with a letter of introduction, given to him by a woman now waiting outside. I usually do not like to have my work disturbed but I was always prepared to make an exception for such correspondence.

Letters of introduction usually only came to me from one of my spies, introducing someone whom they could strongly recommend would be of beneficial service to me and the state. They fully knew that they should not provide such endorsements lightly, given the delicate nature of our furtive trade, and so I always took them very seriously. We protectors of the Empire’s security could always make use of new competent and loyal recruits.

This particular letter of introduction was from the dancer Macedonia in faraway Syrian Antioch. The correspondence introduced another entertainer, a 21 year-old actress and friend named Theodora, whom she had known in Constantinople and who was now waiting outside my office, apparently ready to serve me and the state.

I liked to use entertainers because many acted well, travelled extensively and mixed with all levels of society, all of which were useful attributes for a spy. They also frequently professionally experienced an atmosphere where inhibitions had been loosened through the likes of excess alcohol or sex, when careless talk would often give secrets away.

Many of the prettier entertainers, of both genders, commonly doubled as prostitutes. Careless pillow-talk generally proved as useful for discovering secrets as excess alcohol.

According to Macedonia’s frank letter of introduction, Theodora was the daughter of a bear-keeper for the Greens’ chariot-racing faction in the Hippodrome and a female circus acrobat. However, her father had died when she was only six and his employers subsequently treated her family poorly, refusing them decent jobs.

The Blues, though, rescued the family from potential destitution by offering what the Greens had refused. Ever since, Theodora had been an unwavering supporter of this rival faction, amidst whose entertainment activities she had first met the dancer, Macedonia.

Theodora had herself grown up playing stage parts in coarse comedies, developing into an accomplished mimic on the way, before eventually becoming because of her outstanding beauty and lively personality one of Constantinople’s most coveted courtesans. Being keen not to remain even a high-class prostitute for long, though, but instead ambitious to rise in society, she had subsequently become the mistress of a high-ranking civil servant.

Theodora went with this high-ranking civil servant to North Africa, where they quarrelled and split. Afterwards, she made her way back home to Constantinople via Alexandria in Egypt and Antioch in Syria, where she met up again with Macedonia.

The letter of introduction also reported that Theodora was now, after her return to Constantinople, planning to return to work as a courtesan. However, at Macedonia’s suggestion, she was additionally willing to act as a spy for me and the state in return for the usual financial commissions.

Macedonia strongly recommended her for such a role and I could easily see how a top courtesan could extract useful information for me from some important clients whose loyalty to Emperor and state might not be as profound as should be. However, my intent to agree to accept her as one of my agents, initially on a trial basis, was, unknown to me in my office, already thwarted.

I only discovered that such ambitions were not to be fulfilled when I personally opened the door to my office in order to invite Theodora inside for a private conversation. I found her outside, already talking to a man who had come to see me on an important issue.

The man was, of course, Justinian and I could tell from the enthralled look on his face, adorned with a neatly trimmed moustache and beard, that he was already smitten with the very alluring Theodora.

Chapter XI - Law

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], a few weeks later, summer 521 CE)

Fortunately for Theodora and me, I was rescued from the unpleasant task of having to make her disappear, either by bribing her to go into exile or, if she refused, having her quietly murdered. I was saved by pointing out to the Emperor and Empress that any marriage between Justinian and her would be invalid.

I reminded the Emperor and Empress that there was a law specifically forbidding the marriage of a Senator to such a lowly person as an actress, a profession that often meant concubine too. Apparently, the probity of members of this august but essentially powerless exclusively male legislature had to be legally protected against the charms of such female entertainers.

Justin I could, of course, easily have had the relevant law repealed in order to help his besotted nephew and presumptive heir to marry Theodora. Despite the Emperor’s own reservations about the suitability of the actress and courtesan, I am sure that he would have done so for Justinian’s sake.

Empress Euphemia, though and despite, or perhaps actually because of, her own lowly origins as a former slave, was implacably opposed to the union. As a result and for the harmony of his own marriage, Justin I decided that he could not currently repeal the law to help his nephew.

Consequently, Theodora did return to being a courtesan, albeit with only one live-in client because she now openly became Justinian’s mistress.

Chapter XII - Marriage

(Magna Ecclesia, or ‘Great Church’, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], about 4 years later, 525 CE)

Theodora was Justinian’s mistress for almost four years. However, Empress Euphemia died in 524 CE and the now visibly ailing Justin I finally agreed to his nephew’s request to amend the law preventing a Senator marrying an actress or concubine. The legislation was changed to allow retired female entertainers, who truly repented their previous sins and whose status had subsequently risen high, to wed anyone.

As a result, Justinian and Theodora were married by the Patriarch of Constantinople in 525 CE in the wooden-roofed basilica of the Magna Ecclesia, or ‘Great Church’, which was to be burnt to the ground seven years later.

Chapter XIII - Succession

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], about 2 years later, 1st August 527 CE)

About two years later, on the 4th of April 527 CE, Justinian and Theodora returned to the Magna Ecclesia. On this occasion, they were crowned joint rulers of the Byzantine Empire with Justin I.

Justin I knew that he was dying of cancer. The Emperor was therefore keen to ensure that no one disputed Justinian’s right to succeed him.

Justinian had proved to his uncle’s satisfaction that he was worthy to succeed him and not just because he was his nephew and adopted son. He had also been Justin I’s closest and most able confidant and lieutenant throughout the reign of the dying Emperor.

The succession eventually took place peacefully about four months after the coronation of Justinian I and Theodora, when Justin I died of his cancer on the 1st of August 527 CE.

Chapter XIV - Command

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], a few weeks later, late August 527 CE)

A few weeks later, I unexpectedly found myself, at the age of almost fifty, not only wearing a military uniform for the first time but also formally inspecting a regiment of palace guards on parade. I was in this surprising situation, for someone with no practical military experience whatsoever, because Emperor Justinian I had not just recently re-confirmed me in my position as Imperial spymaster. He had additionally given me extra responsibilities.

“A highly loyal and efficient spymaster like you should control the means of suppressing trouble and not just of identifying it,” Emperor Justinian I had explained to me when allocating me these very surprising extra responsibilities and in response to my objections. “After all”, he added, “the safety of the State is the highest law!”

I needed the explanation because he had just surprisingly given me, in addition to my duties as spymaster and in the footsteps of his late uncle, command of the Excubitors.

Chapter XV - Commander

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], almost 4½ years later, January 532 CE)

I am sure that there was another undisclosed explanation for me unexpectedly being promoted to Comes Excubitorum. This reason was the appointment of someone to the important command who could never aspire to follow Justin I in using the powerful post to launch a bid for the throne. The assumption of the position by a loyal supporter like me therefore further safeguarded Justinian I’s succession.

My appointment did, though, unfortunately, but in the circumstances rather naturally, cause a lot of resentment amongst the professional Excubitors, especially the long-serving higher-ranking officers, who might themselves have had aspirations to command the regiment. The apparent usurpation of the position by someone like me, who had never served in the guards or even had previous practical military experience, would to them have certainly been bad enough. However, another factor undoubtedly made most of them apoplectic.

Consequently, my first jobs after my appointment were somehow to quell the resultant unrest within the Excubitors and to gain the respect of the guardsmen and their officers. I began to do so by having them parade for my inspection and then addressing them.

In my address, I honestly told the assembled guardsmen and officers that I previously had had no ambition or desire to become Comes Excubitorum and that, despite my objections, Justinian I had insisted that I accept the position for the safety of the state. I had therefore loyally bowed to the Emperor’s will and so, I suggested, must the regiment, as anything else would be treason.

The implied threat behind this statement worked because I immediately secured the obedience of the guardsmen and officers, although I was initially undoubtedly behind my back the subject of much verbal bile from them. However, I am sure that this venom towards me subsided considerably over the next 4 or so years, if not completely dissipated, because, without boasting and perhaps surprisingly, given my background, I proved to be a capable commander.

I sincerely believe that I commanded the Excubitors well, helped, within the maintained disciple of an elite regiment, by treating everyone fairly and with respect. I also promoted the most able and loyal and retired the least efficient and trustworthy, replacing them with carefully selected high-calibre recruits, so that, by the time I had been in charge for almost 4½ years, the majority of the guards owed their positions to me.

I had additionally led the Excubitors during these 4 or so years in several successful operations against identified enemies of the state and I always ensured that the Emperor subsequently honoured and rewarded his guards well for such accomplishments. As a result of guiding the regiment to such achievements and prizes, their respect for me further increased.

The ultimate test of the Excubitors’ loyalty to the Emperor and me was, though, now to come, almost half a decade after I had assumed command of them.

Chapter XVI - Riots

(Magna Ecclesia, or ‘Great Church’, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], 13th January 532 CE)

With the population of Constantinople having no other organised outlet through which to express their beliefs, the Blues and Greens chariot-racing factions had become involved in political, military and even religious matters, usually on opposing sides, with each for example favouring different Christian theologies. At times, they were additionally prone to riot, either against each other, the Imperial government or the church hierarchy, and some followers even formed street-gangs, responsible for robberies and murders.

Justinian I was himself a chariot racing fan and Blues supporter. However, despite these facts, he was determined for the security of the state to crack down indiscriminately on the two factions in order to reduce their influence and remove their propensity for lawlessness.

The influence of the Blues and Greens was boosted by their possession of followers from some of Constantinople’s most important aristocratic families, some of whom were potential rivals for Justinian I’s throne. This fact gave further motive to the Emperor’s desire to curtail the significance of the factions.

Justinian I therefore sought to reduce the privileges and powers of the Blues and Greens. The Emperor also punished the excesses of any followers severely.

An example of such severe punishment arose after the efficient arrest by Excubitors under my command of seven ringleaders from both the Blues and Greens after a riot in the wake of chariot racing in Constantinople’s Hippodrome on the 10th of January 532 CE. They were subsequently handed over to the judicial authorities, who quickly condemned them to death. However, these events now almost led to the deposition of Justinian I.

Five of the seven ringleaders were actually rapidly hanged. However, two, in the hands of incompetent gaolers, managed to escape, much to my annoyance and that of my Excubitors, who had first arrested them.

This pair, one from each faction, was eventually freshly tracked by Excubitors under my command to a monastery, where the escapees sought sanctuary, which we respected, but where we also besieged them and sought to starve them into surrender. However, followers of the Blues and Greens, now unusually united over an issue, subsequently demonstrated in support of the trapped fugitives, demanding that they be pardoned and set free.

Current public discontent had already been exacerbated by unpopular new taxes and taxation reforms that Justinian I had recently introduced. The measures were needed but the fact that some of the officials who oversaw them proved poor appointments, often being corrupt or overly harsh in implementation or both, did not help acceptance. As a result, the Emperor’s standing had deteriorated substantially and consequently his position had by now become precarious.

In my capacity of spymaster, I had already dutifully quietly warned Justinian I about the deterioration in his standing and the resultant dangers for his position. However, the Emperor had by now become rather over-confident and he unwisely refused to take remedial action despite my urgent recommendations to the contrary.

Instead, now, three days after the original arrest of the seven ringleaders and whilst the two fugitives were still being besieged in their monastery sanctuary, Justinian I imprudently allowed another chariot racing event to take place in the Hippodrome. This huge circus was adjacent both to his palace complex and to the Magna Ecclesia.

As usual, the Emperor was expected to make an appearance in the Hippodrome to watch some chariot racing. However, when Justinian I did so, guarded by the Excubitors, he was ominously greeted by a very unfriendly uproar.

The vast crowd of spectators congregated in the huge Hippodrome chanted in unison “Nikā, Nikā”, meaning ‘Win, Win’, which the factions normally screamed at each other and in support of their teams. However, on this occasion, they were clearly menacingly addressing their vociferous shouting at the Emperor.

The chariot racing subsequently began but the majority of the crowd did not stay to watch. They instead poured out of the hippodrome to form a massive mob, intent on not only riot but also revolt.

The mob additionally set out to destroy. On that day, many of Constantinople’s finest buildings were torched and, as a result, heavy smoke clouded the city for days afterwards.

Amongst the buildings burnt down was the Magna Ecclesia.

Chapter XVII - Words

(Imperial palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], 5 days later, 18th January 532 CE)

Over the next five days, the rioting and arson attacks continued. During this period, Justinian I attempted to appease the mob, against my advice and that of other supporters, by acceding to demands to dismiss his most unpopular officials, which now included me because of my role in the original arrest of the first riot’s ringleaders.

On the fifth day, Justinian I also, again against advice, visited the Hippodrome, where the unrestrained mob now regularly gathered to debate tactics. Here, he publicly accepted the blame for the trouble and promised amnesty to everyone if they desisted from further rioting. However, his utterances were met with vociferous abuse and he felt obliged once more to retreat to his nearby palace, still guarded by Excubitors, whilst the gathered masses searched for another candidate to be Emperor.

The mob found the elderly Hypatius, who, like Justinian I himself, was a nephew of the previous Emperor, Justin I. This man actually had no political ambitions at all but he was forcibly carried on shoulders to the Hippodrome, where, there being no Imperial diadem present, he reluctantly allowed himself to be crowned with a borrowed gold necklace whilst seated on the throne in the royal box.

Meanwhile, in the nearby palace, Justinian I was contemplating fleeing Constantinople. However, his formidable wife, Theodora, intervened at my urging. I was still present because the Emperor had not yet carried out his promise to the mob to dismiss me from my position as Comes Excubitorum.

I believed that attempting to flee Constantinople would be fatal for Justinian I and possibly the Byzantines too. The Emperor would be leaving his capital in the hands of the out-of-control mob and only God knows what further horrendous damage they might have perpetrated on the city, and indirectly the wider Empire, if they had been allowed to continue their riotous behaviour.

Justinian I’s position as Emperor would also certainly have become untenable after he had fled his capital, with an executioner surely awaiting him sometime somewhere. Given the dearth of talent to take over the throne, this prospect might have been fatal for the Empire too, as well as for himself.

I therefore believed that Justinian I’s best course of action now was to remain in Constantinople and fight for his throne. However, I also knew from recent experience that the Emperor had latterly sadly taken little heed of the counsel of his advisers and supporters, such as me. The only person whose advice he did tend to follow was that of his confident and strong-willed wife.

I therefore begged Empress Theodora to make her husband see sense and reject the notion of fleeing Constantinople in favour of fighting for his throne. In fact, she thankfully needed little urging, as her viewpoint relating to the situation matched my own.

Empress Theodora subsequently addressed her husband, Justinian I, in my presence with calm bluntness. She began by telling him, and shaming him in the process, “I do not care, my Lord, whether it’s right for a woman to provide courageous advice to frightened men because, in moments of extreme danger, like now, conscience is my only guide.”

“As far as I’m concerned, my Lord,” Theodora continued, “cowardly flight from our capital is not to be considered for an instant, even if it did lead us to safety. Every man who is born into the light of day must sooner or later die and how could an Emperor ever allow himself to become a fugitive? May I myself never willingly shed my Imperial robes, nor see the day when I am no longer addressed by my title.”

“If you, though, my Lord,” Theodora added, whilst carefully glancing up and down Justinian I’s rich garments of purple, a colour exclusive to Emperors and Empresses, “wish to save your skin, you will have no difficulty in doing so. We are rich, there is the sea and there too are our ships.”

“However, consider first, my Lord,” Theodora concluded, “whether, when you reach safety, you will not regret that you that you did not choose death in preference. As for me, I stand by the ancient saying that 'The Purple is the noblest funeral shroud’!”

At this moment of grave crisis, Theodora’s eloquently delivered brave and shaming words, which represented her most important favour for her husband and surely proved her worthiness as an Empress regardless of her background, thankfully stiffened Justinian I’s resolve. He gave no further thought to flight but instead, with dampness in his eyes, hugged his beloved wife and then asked of her “What should we do?”

“Convene an immediate meeting of your best and most loyal generals,” Theodora answered, “namely the Comes Excubitorum here, plus Belisarius and Mundus. I’m sure that the four of you will be able to devise a plan to crush the riotous mob endangering the Empire!”

Theodora then kissed her husband politely on the cheek, turned and gracefully left the chamber. She was apparently confident that she had done her necessary duty and that somehow all would now be well.

Empress Theodora’s confidence was not to prove misplaced.

Chapter XVIII - Slaughter

(Hippodrome, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], later same day)

Empress Theodora’s confidence was assisted by the coincidence that two of Justinian I’s best generals happened to be in his palace at this time of danger. Belisarius was the new army commander-in-chief, who had recently achieved a great victory in the east against the Persians. Mundus was in charge of the Byzantine forces in Illyria but had been recalled to Constantinople for consultation with his Emperor. He had fortunately brought as bodyguard a large contingent of fierce but loyal mercenaries. They were Heruli, who were a nomadic Germanic tribe.

After the meeting of Belisarius and Mundus with the Emperor and me, the generals furtively left the Imperial residence to gather their soldiers and quietly advance with them by separate routes on the Hippodrome. There, in reaction to a planned signal, their forces simultaneously invaded the circus and attacked the still gathered conferring mob.

Meanwhile, I positioned my Excubitors, who now fully confirmed their loyalty to the Emperor and me, at the main exits of the Hippodrome in readiness to kill anyone attempting to escape. The sad result of this well-concerted action was a great slaughter, with the sand in the arena turned red with blood.

At the end, about 30,000 bodies were scattered around the Hippodrome, with Hypatius joining the dead on the next day when, at the insistence of Theodora, he was executed with his brother. Their corpses were subsequently ignominiously cast into the sea as a brutal example to any other would-be usurpers.

I am not proud of my part in the great slaughter but I also do not regret my role, as I believed that the very safety of the state was at issue. For all his recent mistakes, I had no doubt that Justinian I remained the best person to occupy the throne, especially as the most likely alternative in the circumstances was anarchy. The weak Hypatius was certainly no sound option because he was just the tool of the out-of-control mob.

I therefore regret the need for the slaughter but not the actual occurrence. The retention on the throne of a competent Emperor was essential and the mobs of the Blues and Greens did need crushing for the future welfare of the state.

The bloody end to what became known as the ‘Nikā Revolt’, after the mob’s chanting, fulfilled both essentials.

Chapter XIX - Restoration

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], about 1½ years later, Midsummer Day, 533 CE)

The Nikā Revolt proved to be a salutary lesson for Justinian I, as he restored his personal authority and the wellbeing of his Empire. Hereon, he avoided the mistake of over-confidence and was more careful when implementing necessary but unpopular policies. He also listened more to his most competent and loyal advisers and supporters, such as me, although, after her vital role in helping to stiffen his resolve and so save his throne, the clearly able Theodora was understandably to remain his closest confidant.

I personally was rewarded for my role in crushing the Nikā Revolt with further promotion. I now assumed the office of High Chamberlain, the Emperor’s senior adviser and pinnacle of the court bureaucracy, a post once occupied by the late Amantius. I was also appointed to the most senior rank of Senator, becoming an Illustris.

Meanwhile, the Nikā Revolt also proved to be a salutary lesson for the people of Constantinople. After all, thirty thousand of them had been slaughtered, with many others undoubtedly very grateful that they were not in the Hippodrome on the afternoon of the 18th of January 532 CE. Rebellious tendencies in the capital therefore became restrained, and were in fact largely replaced by grudging respect for Justinian I and the difficulty of displacing him as Emperor.

After the crushing of the Nikā Revolt and, through Belisarius, the Persian danger in the east, relative peace now came to the Byzantine Empire. Justinian I used this period first to oversee the beginning of the rebuilding of Constantinople, including the reconstruction of most of the destroyed infrastructure. This restoration included a new huge cathedral church to replace the burnt-down Magna Ecclesia [the replacement basilica’s emergence as the great and still extant ‘Hagia Sophia’, or ‘Holy Wisdom’, is described in another story here by the same author titled ‘Another Byzantine Christmas’ – Pueros].

Justinian I then finally decided to attempt to fulfil a longstanding ambition, which project he called in Latin his ‘Renovatio Imperii’. As a result, on Midsummer Day 533 CE, he watched from a palace balcony window, as his very talented army commander-in-chief, Belisarius, led five thousand cavalry and twice that number of infantry to war. These forces were to embark on five hundred transport vessels and, protected by over ninety small warships, sail to and re-conquer North Africa, then ruled by the barbarian Vandals.

By beginning with north Africa, Justinian I planned, fatefully for me, to restore to his realm the western part of the Empire, much of which, such as the former capital, Rome, had long since fallen into barbarian hands.

Chapter XX - Spy

(Firmium [modern Fermo], Italy, over 5 years later, spring 538 CE)

There is no doubt that Belisarius was a splendid general, especially as far as personal bravery, war strategy and battle tactics were concerned. He was certainly one of the very best, if not the best, that the Roman and Byzantine Empires ever possessed. He had clearly demonstrated this fact by the spring of 538 CE because, through brilliant campaigning, he had by then, after his Persian successes, retaken for Justinian I not only North Africa from the Vandals but also much of Italy, including Rome, from the Ostrogoths.

Unfortunately, such magnificent successes caused Justinian I to worry that Belisarius might be becoming too powerful and popular. As I have already mentioned, after the

Nikā Revolt the Emperor no longer allowed himself to be over-confident about the security of his position. In fact, his associated worries increasingly became, in my opinion, unnecessarily alarmist to the extent that he paranoiacally distrusted almost everyone. The only people whom he now appeared to trust completely were his wife, Theodora, and me, and I am sure that I was included in this tiny list of confidants only because he appreciated that I could never aspire for the throne.

Accordingly, Justinian I, sadly disregarding my contrary advice, decided to send a spy into the camp of his best general in order to keep a watchful eye on him. Leading reinforcements requested by Belisarius, this infiltrator arrived in Italy in spring of 538 CE with two thousand Heruli mercenaries and met up with the army commander-in-chief at the ancient hilltop town of Firmium [modern Fermo - Pueros] on the Adriatic coast.

The spy had been ordered to obey Belisarius in all matters but only, and here I quote Justinian I’s own words, “so far as seemed consistent with the public welfare”. The latter qualification was very significant, as such instructions meant that he effectively had the authority to overrule the general whenever he considered such action appropriate.

I was very unhappy with these developments, undertaken contrary to my advice but more especially because the appointed spy was me.

Chapter XXI - Relief

(Ariminum [modern Rimini], Italy, spring 538 CE)

Belisarius cannot have been pleased to find me in Firmium, leading his Heruli reinforcements. He outranked me in military affairs but the opposite was true in respect of civil matters, which ultimately took precedence in decision-making, and this situation threatened a dangerously divided leadership. My presence would also undoubtedly have correctly suggested to him that Justinian I had sent me to keep a watchful eye on him.

On Belisarius’ arrival in Firmium for a council of war, though, he received me politely and respectfully and this welcome was reciprocated. Although we were later to have disagreements, I never ceased to like the general or have great regard for his impressive military skills, one of which, however, was not his ability to control subordinate commanders.

Belisarius’ career was to be tarnished by his inability to engender the complete loyalty of other generals controlling independent forces. An example of such insubordination had recently occurred when the ambitious John, the commander of two thousand valuable cavalry and nephew of the troublesome Vitalian, whom I had had quietly assassinated many years previously, refused to withdraw from Ariminum [modern Rimini - Pueros].

Because of developments elsewhere, Belisarius recognised that Ariminum had become dangerously exposed to potential counterattack by the Ostrogoths. He had therefore sent orders for John to withdraw his cavalry from the town and rejoin the main army.

The independent-minded John, however, had his own ambitious agenda to win the war, having been in secret contact with an Ostrogothic faction opposed to fighting the Byzantines. He therefore foolishly declined to obey Belisarius’ order. He instead preferred to stay in Ariminum, which was geographically convenient for the relevant communications, until the result of these overtures became known, whilst in the process apparently echoing his late uncle’s troublesome nature.

John was quickly rewarded for his insubordination by being besieged in Ariminum by a large Ostrogothic army. The fate of him and his cavalry now looked bleak because the town’s defences were weak and he had not taken the precaution of stockpiling provisions.

Belisarius was naturally furious about these developments because he could ill afford to lose two thousand elite cavalry. However, he was also aware that any attempt to raise the siege of Ariminum was fraught with danger, especially as the intervening town of Auximum [modern Osimo – Pueros] was still held by the Ostrogoths.

Belisarius was therefore sadly minded to leave Ariminum, and the disobedient John and his cavalry, to their fate. He deemed that launching a rescue of a small town and two thousand horsemen was not worth risking the many more lives represented by his entire army.

Belisarius’ viewpoint was supported by most of his junior officers, including a certain Procopius, who was actually a ‘rhetor’, or lawyer, and had been on the general’s staff as a legal adviser for over a decade. He was later to fall out with the general and leave his service, subsequently writing an eight-volume history titled ‘De Bellis’, or ‘About the Wars’, detailing various campaigns of Justinian I’s reign [known today as ‘The Wars of Justinian’ – Pueros].

I have read Procopius’ history and believe that he was not always accurate, having allowed too much personal prejudice to influence his comments about people. However, perhaps my own viewpoint cannot be trusted too, as he did not in his text appear to rate me particularly highly.

Procopius certainly did not rate Justinian I or his Empress, Theodora, highly because he also wrote a scandalous ‘Historia Arcana’, or ‘Secret History’ about them [known today as ‘Procopius’ Secret History’ – Pueros], which became known to me after the author’s death. In the book, the Emperor was inaccurately portrayed as being incompetent, cruel, dishonest and profligate, whilst his wife was calculating, mean and vulgar, as well as prone to sexual excess and perversion.

Procopius’ bitterness about Belisarius also emerges in the ‘Historia Arcana’. Aspects of the private lives of both the general and his wife, Antonina, are included amongst the scandalous claims in the book.

Procopius was present at the war council in Firmium when I was the only person to speak in favour of attempting the relief from siege of Ariminum. When doing so, I admitted to my lack of military experience but pointed out that the Ostrogoths had been badly shaken by Belisarius’ recent successes against them. However, if they were to capture the town, I argued, with an important element of the Byzantine army inside, their morale might be restored and they might return to battle more dangerous than ever.

Procopius libellously suggests in his military history that my real motive for urging the relief of Ariminum was that, in respect of John, I “loved him above all other men”. I have to confess that my conscience in respect of the fate of his late uncle had previously encouraged me to befriend him and sponsor his early military career.

I, however, had by now recognised that John, as he had risen through the ranks and although a capable military commander, had become a bit too ambitious for personal glory, which had caused his present precarious predicament. Like Belisarius, I was not prepared to risk the whole army just to save such an individual, whom I certainly did not love “above all other men”.

My urging for the relief of Ariminum was instead undertaken entirely because I believed that the significance of saving the endangered town and the valuable cavalry inside the walls would be another significant hammer blow in the war against the Ostrogoths. Despite being the only such viewpoint expressed at the council of war in Firmium, this counsel also eventually prevailed for two main reasons.

The first and perhaps most significant reason was that Belisarius did not himself argue against my viewpoint. He instead listened politely and remained silent.

I am still unsure whether such a response meant I had convinced Belisarius but he did not want to confess to that, or that I had not but he nevertheless felt compelled to say nothing further. He might perhaps have unnecessarily feared the humiliation of ultimately publicly losing the argument to me through being overruled by me invoking my civil powers of veto, which I never intended to do.

The second reason was that many of Belisarius’ subordinate officers felt some shame and loss of honour at abandoning the endangered cavalry in Ariminum. They therefore proved readily susceptible to being convinced of the need to rescue them.

Despite Belisarius’ clear reluctance, he subsequently again exhibited excellent generalship in successfully achieving the finally agreed aim of the council of war held in Firmium. The two-week campaign involved an amphibious operation to bypass Auximum and then bluffing the Ostrogoths besieging Ariminum into believing that the general had brought a much bigger force than was actually the case.

The actually far more numerous Ostrogoths fled without a fight and Ariminum and the town’s starving citizenry and soldiers were relieved. John, the cause of all the trouble in the first place, then exacerbated the difficulty of the relationship between Belisarius and me.

John did not apologise to Belisarius for his foolish role in the whole affair. He also did not thank the general for his rescue.

John instead only pointedly thanked his old friend and sponsor, namely me.

Chapter XXII - Disaster

(Mediolanum [modern Milan], Italy, about ¾ year later, early 539 CE)

In the previous year, Belisarius had retaken Rome at the invitation of Pope Silverius, who was the only known holder of his papal post who was the legitimate son of another. His late father, Pope Hormisdas, had taken holy orders only after the death of his wife.

Archbishop Datius of Mediolanum in northern Italy [modern Milan – Pueros] subsequently visited Belisarius in Rome, begging him to rescue his city too from barbarians and heretics. The great general agreed to help and not just as a result of the cleric’s entreaties.

Mediolanum was at the time the biggest and richest city in Italy, surpassing Rome. Belisarius therefore felt that he had an obligation towards the city.

Belisarius sent a thousand soldiers back with the Archbishop to northern Italy. They first went by sea to Genua [modern Genoa – Pueros] and then used the naval ships’ small boats to cross the mighty River Padus [modern Po – Pueros] before defeating an Ostrogothic army before the walls of Ticinum [modern Padua – Pueros].

The victorious Byzantines then finally moved on to Mediolanum, where the citizens happily opened their gates to them. Several other towns in the region, such as Bergomum, Comum and Novaria [modern Bergamo, Como and Novara – Pueros], also provided similar welcomes.

In each liberated town and city, the Byzantines left behind a small protective garrison from their own numbers. Such understandable action, though, thereby reduced their strength for the defence of Mediolanum.

Given the importance of Mediolanum, the current leader of the Ostrogoths, Vitiges, later despatched a large army under the leadership of his nephew, Uraias, to retake the city. Their forces were boosted by ten thousand Burgundians, sent by their ally, King Theudibert of the Franks.

Consequently, Mediolanum was in late summer 538 CE besieged by a vast allied army of Ostrogoths and Burgundians. The Byzantine garrison in the city was so small in comparison that ordinary citizens had to help to defend the battlements.

On hearing the news of the siege of Mediolanum, and belatedly recognising that by prematurely helping the city he had over-extended his own armies, Belisarius quickly despatched a substantial relief force, led by a couple of his best commanders. However, on eventually reaching the River Padus, these officers immediately recognised, after discovering the Burgundians unexpectedly supplementing the Ostrogoths, that they were hopelessly outnumbered. They therefore requested reinforcements before advancing any further.

At this time, John still had an independent command. I believe that Belisarius allowed him to retain his position because of his supposed personal closeness to me. However, if the general had actually bothered asking my opinion, I would have advised replacing him with someone more reliable and obedient to his commands.

By this time, Mundus, the commander of the Byzantine forces in Illyria who had played such a prominent role in saving the Emperor’s throne during the Nikā Revolt, had been dead for two years. He had been killed in a skirmish with the Ostrogoths near Salona [near modern Split, Croatia – Pueros] and his replacement in the region had been Justin. This general should not be mistaken for Justinian I’s similarly-named nephew, who will appear later in my history.

On receiving the urgent request for reinforcements to help relieve Mediolanum, Belisarius immediately asked John and Justin to take their forces there. However, both commanders fatefully refused unless I confirmed the instructions.

I naturally did immediately confirm Belisarius’ instructions. However, the delay in implementing them, caused by the time taken to communicate around Italy via horseback messenger, sadly proved fatal for Mediolanum.

The small Byzantine garrison in Mediolanum, reduced to eating dogs, cats and mice, surrendered, against the passioned pleas of their own hardier commander, having been given a promise of safe conduct away from the place by Uraias. The leader of the Ostrogoths subsequently kept his word, which, however, did not extend to the city or citizenry.

Uraias believed that Mediolanum and the local citizenry had betrayed his people by preferring Byzantine rule to that of the Ostrogoths. After the safe departure of the small garrison, he therefore gave authority for the city to suffer for such disloyalty, in revenge and as an awful example to others.

All of the males in Mediolanum were slaughtered, all of the females were enslaved and gifted to the Burgundians, as thanks for their alliance, and the city was burnt to the ground.

Chapter XXIII - Command

(Taginae [near modern Gualdo Tadino], Italy, about 13½ years later, summer 552 CE)

As soon as I learnt about the disaster that had befallen Mediolanum, I wrote to Justinian I, strongly recommending that I be recalled to Constantinople. I recognised that my presence in Italy had greatly contributed, albeit personally inadvertently, to the dreadful catastrophe that the city had suffered by dividing local leadership and loyalties.

I suggested in my letter to Justinian I that there was a need for only one commander-in-chief in Italy, with clear supreme unchallenged powers, and that the person to fill this position should be Belisarius. My own presence was proving disastrously counter-productive, as had been appallingly exemplified by the dreadful catastrophe that had befallen Mediolanum.

Thankfully, Justinian I agreed with my counsel and I was recalled to Constantinople, leaving Belisarius with unchallenged supreme command to re-conquer Italy, in which project he eventually succeeded after a campaign lasting a total of 5 years. Meanwhile, I fully expected to resume bureaucratic duties and never to see another battlefield. However, I was to be proved wrong in this assumption.

13½ years later, in the summer of 552 CE, I watched as the latest king of the resurgent Ostrogoths in Italy, the young and highly capable Totila, gave a very impressive personal display of acrobatic horsemanship. He did so in the gap between our respective armies, which were ready to fight a battle at Taginae [near modern Gualdo Tadino], whilst attired in golden armour and purple doublet and hose.

The physical contrast between the relatively young, tall, muscular and clearly vigorous Totila and myself must have been stark and obvious to all. I was at this time 74 years old and I have to confess already rather wizened, having also always been short in stature.

After being recalled from Italy 13½ years earlier, I had resumed my position as High Chamberlain to Justinian I and had subsequently retained the post until being unexpectedly sent again to the peninsula. You, reader of this my life history, might therefore wonder as to how and why I was now the sole commander of an army about to fight the resurgent Ostrogoths led by a highly capable king. Your surprise might be increased by the fact that in the intervening period I had not returned to any military action whatsoever but had instead concentrated on my lofty bureaucratic responsibilities.

I have to confess that, as I watched Totila showing off his impressive horsemanship and saw the vast and fierce Ostrogothic horde lined up in battle formation behind him, I too did wonder how I had managed to find myself in this clearly dangerous situation. I did not fear for my life, as I was genuinely not a coward and had anyway already lived for a lengthy time, longer than most people are granted in this age. I was anxious instead about the outcome of the imminent conflict, which I recognised would probably be decisive in terms of not only the current war but also the immediate future of Italy within the Byzantine Empire.

I was fully aware that the ultimate responsibility for achieving victory in the imminent defining conflict was my own and I was someone who had not just never led an army in a major battle previously. I also had little practical military expertise at all.

I was therefore naturally rather anxious, as I watched Totila, as to whether my leadership in terms of previous campaign strategy and imminent battle tactics would secure the required victory. I was, though, nevertheless confident of success and not just because I had ensured, through careful planning for this day, that my forces not only outnumbered those of the Ostrogoths but also were arraigned in what I considered to be the prudently strong defensive formation necessary for the circumstances.

Much of importance had happened since my recall from Italy 13½ years previously to which I was largely merely a relatively minor peripheral participant or spectator. As this narrative represents the history of my life rather than that of the Byzantine Empire or such individuals as Justinian I and his great general Belisarius, I shall therefore not go into any detail about these events. I shall leave the task to other chroniclers.

I shall relate, though, that these events included costly war with Persia, the ravages of a major outbreak of the plague, including the almost fatal illness of Justinian I himself, and subsequent resultant serious famine. There were also the unjustified temporary disfavour of Belisarius, the scandalous marriage infidelities of the great general’s wife and significant religious arguments between Emperor and Pope, which affected the whole Christian Church.

Meanwhile, the Ostrogoths, led first by Hildebad and then, after his assassination whilst dining by a guard with a grievance, by his nephew, Totila, had reasserted themselves in Italy against Belisarius’ much less capable successors there. They regained much of the territory previously lost to the Byzantines.

Even the returning Belisarius could not later restore the Byzantine position because he was under-resourced. A final appeal in the summer of 548 CE to Justinian I for more forces to be able to complete his mission, which had reached stalemate with the Ostrogoths, was thwarted by the recent death through cancer of the Empress Theodora.

Justinian I’s grief at Theodora’s death was such that the Emperor was subsequently incapable for many months of making any major decisions. Consequently, sadly accepting the stalemate reached in Italy after a further dangerous and exhausting 4½ years of campaigning there, Belisarius had himself recalled.

Only in 550 CE did Justinian I finally decide to commit proper resources to the further re-conquest of Italy. On this occasion, the weary Belisarius having no interest in leading a third long campaign there, the Emperor appointed a nephew, Germanus, as commander-in-chief of a significant army.

Justinian I and Theodora had never had children. The Emperor had therefore identified whom he considered to be the best of his nephews to succeed him and Germanus had been his choice.

To Justinian I, also choosing Germanus to lead the latest Italian campaign appeared logical as both a test of his abilities and a way in which to increase his popularity. His presumptive heir apparent’s later accession to the throne would be eased if he enjoyed a successful military career.

Germanus, though, soon died in autumn 550 CE of fever at Sardica [modern Sofia, Bulgaria - Pueros] whilst leading his army from Constantinople towards Italy. The distraught Justinian I therefore had to nominate a new commander-in-chief quickly because the substantial Byzantine forces, having begun their campaign, were now leaderless.

Belisarius again politely declined to assume command. The great general had had enough of Italy after already fighting there for virtually a decade and I could not blame him. Consequently, in what must have been desperation, Justinian I asked someone else to lead the campaign.

Justinian I asked me.

Chapter XXIV - Motives

(Taginae [near modern Gualdo Tadino], Italy, summer 552 CE)

More by accident than original design, I therefore found myself in command of another army being sent to regain Italy, despite previously never having either held such a position or personally experienced any proper combat in war. However, as I watched Totila continue to show off, I believed that there was some method in Justinian I’s apparent madness.

I do not want to sound boastful but there were sound reasons for Justinian I appointing and keeping me for so long as his High Chamberlain. These motives did not just involve the debts that he perhaps considered he owed me for helping him both to attain and later to retain the throne.

I was, of course, of proven utter loyalty and could also never myself be a rival and aspire personally to become Emperor. I believe more important, though, was my clear competence, especially in terms of organisation and man-management. I was also, even in my seventies whilst of wizen appearance, still deceivingly physically fit, as well as determined, focused and energetic in anything that I undertook.

Gaining experience from my days commanding the Excubitors, I knew in particular how to treat people well and organise them to mutual good effect and benefit. Consequently, I was very popular at all levels of the bureaucracy and military and indeed now the public in general.

These attributes had earned me respect and loyalty. This situation had, of course, already been exemplified to unfortunate effect during my first trip to Italy when certain commanders would not accept orders from Belisarius but only from me.

More fortunately, and perhaps remarkably to others, these attributes had also been exemplified when I had led the barbarian Heruli mercenaries as reinforcements for Belisarius to Italy. These fierce and often troublesome warriors had exhibited nothing but utter respect and loyalty for me and any orders I issued, just as the Excubitors had previously done.

I believe that Justinian I considered me to be a good organiser of teams and logistics, able to unite and inspire under one leader perpetually arguing rival sub-commanders and disparate and potentially difficult units of soldiers, many of whom were mercenaries of varied ethnicity. In my opinion, the Emperor decided that I could secure the best efforts of such varied elements and that, at this moment, I was therefore the kind of person he most needed to oversight the latest Italian campaign as opposed to someone with special military gifts, such as Belisarius.

The various perpetually arguing rival sub-commanders actually did possess military talent amongst their number that could compensate for my own lack of practical experience. For example, my old friend, John, still a general in Italy, was one such person but his ambitious independent spirit needed to be restrained and refocused for the benefit of the greater cause.

I believe that Justinian I’s motive, for appointing me to supreme command, ultimately resulted from the fact that he felt that I would be capable of forging such gifted people and the disparate forces in their charge into a formidable tool to hammer the Ostrogoths.

Chapter XXV - Tricks

(Taginae [near modern Gualdo Tadino], Italy, summer 552 CE)

I, however, did not just simply assume command of the late Germanus’ army and lead them immediately into Italy and battle. I fully understood my limitations, as well as the size and difficulty of the undertaking.

Consequently, before I left Constantinople in spring 551 CE, I persuaded Justinian I to allow me time to boost the army numbers further, as well as to assimilate myself to the task ahead and subsequently plan and co-ordinate action. The Emperor agreed to my wishes.

Justinian I’s acquiescence was achieved because, after well over three decades in his close service and that of his uncle, I now knew him better than anyone, especially after the death of his beloved wife. I fully recognised how arguments needed to be put to him to gain his concurrence.

Justinian I’s concurrence with my wishes subsequently enabled me to spend the rest of 551 CE in Thrace [modern south-west Balkans - Pueros] and Illyria. I used this time to become acquainted with the forces at my disposal, who were mainly barbarian mercenaries such as my still faithful Heruli, and to recruit yet more soldiers.

I also consulted with all of my sub-commanders. My later strategic plan-of-action was based on what I considered to be their best ideas, along with some of my own.

You, reader of this my life history, will recall that I had as a boy been an avid reader of military treatises. I had continued this hobby into adulthood.

Consequently, I had, by this time and by virtue of my various positions in the Imperial bureaucracy, keenly absorbed for almost sixty years many of the campaign reports sent to Constantinople by commanders in the field, including Belisarius. Despite never having planned a war previously myself, I therefore felt confident in my knowledge about good and bad strategies and tactics against a variety of enemies in various countries, as well as about the unexpected pitfalls that can be encountered.

Such personal confidence caused me to be prepared to reject the advice of more experienced sub-commanders when I saw fit. Nevertheless, my customary tact in doing so always appeared to keep them subsequently loyal to me and my orders, in contrast to what Belisarius had frequently experienced.

My main campaigning strategy was to be both cautious and well-prepared. I eventually considered my readiness to be in the latter state in summer 552 CE, and so only then did I march my army into Italy.

I first advanced the army, now 35,000-strong, overland around the tip of the Adriatic Sea from Illyria to Ravenna in north-east Italy. This heavily fortified city, whose defences were boosted by being located on an island in a lagoon, was the seat of the Byzantine government in the peninsula.

Ravenna was also now one of only four cities left in Byzantine possession in the whole of Italy. The others were Ancona and, at the foot of the peninsula, Croton and Hydruntum [respectively modern Crotone and Otranto - Pueros].

I helped to boost morale in Ravenna by finally paying the local Byzantine garrison their long overdue back-pay, which in turn assisted the wider municipal economy. In the nine days spent in the city, I also initiated other schemes to help the local citizenry, who had suffered greatly from the seemingly incessant wars in Italy.

I was keen to have the citizenry of Ravenna, as well as other cities that I might encounter, as enthusiastic rather than grudging allies, and certainly not enemies. The Ostrogoths under Totila had generally treated the populations of captured places well and so the local Italian people were not necessarily supporters of the Byzantine cause.

I subsequently led the army across the Apennine Mountains and down the ancient Roman road, the Via Flaminia, towards the south of Italy. Meanwhile, Totila, as I had anticipated, brought his Ostrogothic forces up the same thoroughfare to intercept me, which he did at Taginae, where we now faced each other.

Fighting can actually sometimes be quite gentlemanly, at least during the preliminaries. Totila now attempted to make use of this fact by sending me an emissary, requesting that we delay battle for a week to allow for peace negotiations.

I knew from spies and defectors that Totila, perhaps understandably, regarded me, a unique type of aged novice commander, with prejudiced contempt. He must also as a result have believed that I could easily be fatally deceived because he lined up his forces in readiness to engage my own in surprise battle on the following day. I presumed that the attempted trick was perpetrated by the king partly in order to attempt to compensate for his clear inferiority in numbers.

Totila’s attempt at surprise, however, was to be reversed. I quickly and efficiently deployed my own forces, revealing that I had anticipated and was fully ready for his perfidy.

Totila, recognising that his trick had been anticipated and thwarted, then attempted another. He realised that, as a result of the failure of his original plan, he desperately needed the two thousand reinforcements whom he knew were imminently due.

Totila therefore played for time by sending more emissaries to discuss last-minute peace with my own, whilst personally giving both sides his current exhibition of skilful acrobatic horsemanship, which had been preceded by a challenge to a duel between the champions of both armies. I even allowed both the treaty negotiations and the two amusements to proceed, in the process being happy to see that the Byzantine hero prevail in the individual combat.

Totila must have thought that I would not be so impolite and ungentlemanly as to engage in battle before such preliminary peace negotiations and simultaneous entertainment concluded. He must also have thought that his latest ruse, designed solely to allow his reinforcements to arrive and against a unique type of aged novice commander, whom he regarded with prejudiced contempt, had worked.

I did indeed prove polite and gentlemanly, as I did not immediately engage in battle but instead let the farcical peace negotiations continue and Totila finish his personal exhibition of horsemanship, whilst his reinforcements arrived.

Chapter XXVI - Battle

(Taginae [near modern Gualdo Tadino], Italy, summer 552 CE)

I, though, fully appreciated from scouts, spies and defectors that the Ostrogothic reinforcements were imminent. I also deliberately delayed battle until they arrived but this superficially strange inaction was not due to the incompetence or fear of an ageing novice commander. My dalliance was instead entirely commensurate with my pre-planning.

Despite my superior numbers, I always planned to fight an initially defensive battle, inviting the Ostrogoths to attack me first rather than vice-versa. I believed that sticking to my original strategy was much more important than preventing the opposing reinforcements from arriving.

I also appreciated that the Ostrogoths, having been reinforced, would no longer delay attacking. I knew that the peace negotiations taking place were just a ruse and that Totila was instead determined quickly to destroy the Byzantine army, which his prejudiced contempt caused him to consider was led by a ridiculous commander.

I was proved correct when the mass of Ostrogothic cavalry, supported by infantry and the newly arrived reinforcements, charged directly at the centre of my army, which had been drawn up in a slightly curved formation, with archers on each flank. In line with my pre-planning, I immediately ordered the curvature of this battle-line to increase speedily to create a more profound crescent shape.

I then ordered my massed archers to fire on the advancing Ostrogoths. The result was carnage amongst the enemy and the repulsing of their ferocious full-frontal charge, whilst an equally savage attempt to outflank me on a nearby hill was bravely thwarted by the elite troops whom I had placed there in anticipation of such a manoeuvre.

I was later finally able to order my own army to advance in tight formation and in response to this murderous assault the surviving Ostrogoths finally broke ranks and fled in panic with my forces in hot pursuit. They left many of their dead on the battlefield.

Totila was not amongst the dead on the battlefield. He instead fled the rout with the rest of the survivors.

Totila, however, did not survive the battle for long because he had been fatally wounded and died shortly afterwards in the village of Caprae [modern Caprara – Pueros].

Chapter XXVII - Bait

(Cumae, Bay of Neapolis [modern Cuma, Bay of Naples], Italy, a few months later, late September 552 CE)

I knew that, as a result of the Battle of Taginae, the Ostrogoths were almost totally broken. However, their destruction was not fully complete and I had no intention of allowing them to revive and restore themselves, as they had previously managed to do after bad defeats.

I now at first continued to march my army southwards, restoring many cities to Byzantine control along the way, mostly without a fight, although I did briefly have to besiege Rome. The former Imperial capital subsequently changed hands for the fifth time since Emperor Justinian I had attained the throne.

Meanwhile, the surviving Ostrogoths had fled to their north-western stronghold of Ticinum [modern Pavia - Pueros] and there unanimously appointed a new king. He was Teia, one of Totila’s bravest generals, and he unsuccessfully attempted to form an alliance with the Franks, who currently controlled much of Italy north of the River Padus [modern Po – Pueros].

Despite accepting substantial presents from Teia to tempt him, though, the sly King of the Franks, Theudibald, chose to remain neutral. He undoubtedly hoped that the Ostrogoths and Byzantines would go on to fight themselves almost to destruction so that he could then move in to pick up the pieces and thereby conquer and plunder the whole of Italy easily.

After retaking Rome, I decided to move on to attempt to capture Cumae on the north of the Bay of Neapolis [modern Cuma on the Bay of Naples - Pueros] from the Ostrogoths. I did so for two reasons.

First, I had discovered from my efficient network of spies that the Ostrogoths had gathered their huge reserves of gold and bullion at Cumae. I immediately became determined to secure these riches before the enemy could take them to safety, as they could be used to provision and pay my army for years without recourse to securing extra funding from the parsimonious Justinian I.

Second, I was sure that Teia would, through his own spies, as my efforts at counter-espionage were not always successful, soon become aware of my intent. He would naturally be as keen not to have the Ostrogoths relieved of the gold and bullion as I was to capture the riches. Accordingly, I presumed that he would quickly set off with his remaining army from his current base in Ticinum in north-west Italy in order to attempt to strengthen Cumae’s garrison.

Such reaction would, I hoped, enable me to engage Teia and his surviving Ostrogothic army in a conclusive battle, one that would put a permanent end to the war. The gold and bullion of Cumae was my bait for achieving this aim.

Teia did discover my intent but did not react quite as I had anticipated after I learnt of his departure from Ticinum with his army. He instead advanced the long distance from north-west Italy by a deliberately obscure and indirect route. He was hoping that, by doing so, he could prevent detection by my own forces and so avoid battle, prior then to boarding onto the remnants of the Ostrogothic fleet in the Bay of Neapolis and arriving in Cumae by sea.

I, however, soon gained an inkling of what Teia was up to when the generals, whom I had posted to watch for his anticipated approach along the usual routes towards Cumae, which I was by now besieging, reported no sight of him and his army. I was, though, aware of the arrival of a small Ostrogothic fleet in the Bay of Neapolis, where there were currently no ships of my own navy to oppose them.

I therefore, as the saying goes, put two and two together. I now guessed correctly that Teia could not be heading directly for Cumae but would instead be approaching the region via an unexpected route to seek instead a rendezvous with his fleet on the Bay of Neapolis.

I therefore studied the regional maps closely and consulted those of my sub-commanders who knew the area best. I then used my best judgement as to the direction from which Teia and his army might attempt a surprise approach towards the Bay of Neapolis.

As a result of these deliberations, I left a small force to continue the siege of Cumae whilst I led the bulk of my army to the foothills and valleys surrounding nearby Mons Vesuvius and allied peaks.

Chapter XXVIII – History

(Valley of the River Draco [modern River Sarno], near Nuceria [modern Nocera], Italy, a few days later, late September 552 CE)

I proved correct in my new assumption as to which direction Teia would approach the Bay of Neapolis with his army. He was the one therefore to suffer a surprise when, emerging from the southern valleys and foothills of Mons Vesuvius and allied peaks, near the ancient town of Nuceria [modern Nocera - Pueros], he discovered my army blocking his path on the other side of the narrow and high-banked River Draco {modern River Sarno – Pueros].

I was already fully aware of much of the history of the area. Over six centuries previously, Spartacus and his rebel gladiators and slaves had, early in their revolt, sought sanctuary amongst the woods and vineyards on the lush lower slopes of Mons Vesuvius. They later emerged from there to sack Nuceria.

A century later, Mons Vesuvius had, of course, famously proved to be an active volcano, erupting to kill many of the citizens of nearby Herculaneum and Pompeii. The River Draco actually entered the Bay of Neapolis by running through the latter long-buried city, which was just a few miles from where my army was now lined up.

I now hoped to achieve my own important piece of history in the shadows of Mons Vesuvius.

Chapter XXIX – Stand-off

(Valley of the River Draco [modern River Sarno], near Nuceria [modern Nocera], Italy, about a month later, late October 552 CE)

I, however, had to wait patiently to achieve my goal because there was an initial lengthy stand-off between the two opposing armies. I, as I had at Taginae, deployed my forces defensively, despite them being more numerous. However, on this occasion, the Ostrogoths under Teia did not attack recklessly, having obviously learnt a harsh lesson from the earlier battle.

The two opposing armies now simply stood their ground on the two sides of the Draco, waiting for the other to initiate action. However, as at Taginae, I was certainly not prepared to assume the offensive, especially as the steep-sided riverbanks were a severe impediment to successful attack by cavalry and infantry.

Teia presumably had the same viewpoint, especially as he was able to establish and maintain secret outflanking supply lines with the Ostrogothic fleet in the Bay of Neapolis, despite my best efforts to stop such vital provisioning. I could not afford to release enough men for the task in the difficult local terrain without seriously weakening my army and tempting fatal attack.

I have always afterwards believed that Teia did not retreat from this stand-off situation when he could have done because he thought that I would eventually lose my patience and attack in disadvantageous conditions. However, I was to prove him wrong.

I instead decided to attempt to stop the provisioning of Teia’s army at source. I summoned Byzantine naval ships from our colony of Sicily to attack the Ostrogothic fleet in the Bay of Neapolis.

I also ordered Byzantine land forces from elsewhere in Italy to block in the rear any possible retreat by Teia and his army in the direction from which they had come. These summoned reinforcements were insufficient in manpower to launch their own assault from the back on the Ostrogoths but were strong enough when in a defensive position to resist an enemy withdrawal until I attacked from the front.

I planned, though, to trap Teia and his Ostrogothic army into having only one real course of action. That option was to attack me.

Meanwhile, the two opposing armies did occasionally assault each other with swarms of arrows and bolts from ballistae catapults. However, these long-range attacks proved ineffective against soldiers in defensive formations.

My patience on the riverbank of the Draco whilst summoning action from elsewhere eventually bore fruit after a month-long stand-off. News reached Teia that the commander of the Ostrogothic fleet in the Bay of Neapolis had meekly surrendered himself and his ships to the superior Byzantine navy that had arrived there.

If Teia and his army did not therefore want to starve on the banks of the River Draco, apparently only two options remained to them, namely attack or retreat. The king sensibly chose the latter option.

Teia at first carefully withdrew his army to the slopes of nearby Mons Lactarius [modern Mount Lettere – Pueros], which overlooked the Draco valley. I made use of this retreat finally to take my own forces safely across the river without fear of attack and again deploy them defensively.

On Mons Lactarius, because of the nature of the ground, the Ostrogoths were themselves safe from attack. However, after achieving this position, Teia received devastating news there, namely that further retreat was blocked by Byzantine forces further to his rear.

Teia and his army therefore had, as I had planned, only own realistic option left, namely finally to attack me on ground of my own choosing.

Chapter XXX – Agreement

(Mons Lactarius, Valley of the River Draco [modern River Sarno], near Nuceria [modern Nocera], Italy, late October 552 CE)

Teia did not disappoint me. I was also not surprised by the bravery and skilful ferocity with which he and his losing army now fought. The Ostrogoths might have lacked subtlety once they had engaged in battle but they were certainly highly courageous, fierce and talented opponents when fighting.

Consequently, the bloody battle on the lower slopes of Mons Lactarius took two days to finish. The Ostrogoths even fought on when the head of Teia, killed fighting heroically, was displayed to them whilst impaled on a long spear.

Finally, one of the leaders of the surviving few Ostrogoths sought parley with me at dusk on the second day of battle. By now, most of his brave warrior colleagues lay dead near the foot of Mons Lactarius.

We at last reached a permanent peace, one that would forever destroy the Ostrogothic dominance of Italy. The survivors amongst their people agreed to depart from the country and never again be in conflict with the Byzantine Empire. In return, I allowed them to leave safely with all their transportable possessions.

Both the defeated in battle and I kept our promises but my work in Italy was still far from over.

Chapter XXXI – Deviousness

(Near Capua, Italy, almost 2 years later, summer 554 CE)

Within a few months of my arrival in Italy in summer 552 CE, I had forever destroyed the Ostrogothic dominance there. However, they still held some cities and towns, which would prove stubborn to surrender.

The Ostrogoths in these cities and towns did not feel bound by the conditions of the treaty agreed at Mons Lactarius. I was therefore compelled to retake them for the Byzantine Empire one by one, and the relevant sieges were not always easy against well fortified and provisioned places defended by determined and efficient enemy garrisons.

The situation was also complicated by the intervention at last in spring 553 CE of the Franks, assisted by the Alamanni, a Germanic tribe. They entered the fray ostensibly to help the Ostrogoths.

In actuality, however, the belated intervention of the Franks, assisted by the Alamanni, was purely selfish. They sought to gain copious booty by making use of the supposed exhaustion of both the Ostrogoths and Byzantines.

The treacherous Franks and their allies, the Alamanni, at first achieved considerable success in their aims, aided initially by gullible Ostrogoths. They caused much death and destruction in the process and sadly I could do little about this for two reasons.

First, after extensive campaigning and two major battles, my army was initially not yet ready to contest another. Second, when my forces were eventually set, I encountered difficulty in bringing the Franks and Alamanni to a conclusive engagement.

After what had happened at Taginae and Mons Lactarius, the Franks and Alamanni were apparently frightened of engaging me in pitched battle, which I knew must happen if I was to rid Italy of them. I therefore devised a devious scheme to encourage them not to be so scared.

I planted in the entourages of the leaders of the Franks and Alamanni some senior Ostrogoths. These men acted as if they remained the invaders’ gullible allies but had in fact come to their senses.

These men instead now appreciated that the Franks and Alamanni were just pretending to be supportive of their cause. In reality, the invaders were actually inflicting a lot of harm on both the Ostrogoths and the native Italians in their primary desire for plunder.

By this time, many senior Ostrogoths had seen through this deception of the Franks and Alamanni. They had therefore changed sides, having been convinced by me that that their people would be better treated if they did so.

As a result, the Ostrogoths had peacefully yielded some of their strongholds to me, including Cumae, which had bravely and stubbornly held out this long against me. I also convinced some of their leaders as how they could additionally best serve our now mutual cause.

The senior Ostrogoths were, whilst with the Franks and Alamanni, to show utter contempt for me and belittle my previous successes, putting them down to good fortune rather than generalship. They were also to say that I was essentially a coward, as exemplified by my defensive tactics in battle, who would run away at the first sign of something going wrong. Moreover, they were to emphasise that no one of my kind could possibly be a genuine match for the invaders’ greatest generals, whom, given all these factors, they were subtly to chide into ultimately being ashamed of avoiding facing me in pitched battle.

This devious strategy, of slandering me and suggesting that I would be easy to defeat, whilst both flattering and shaming the leadership of the Franks and Alamanni, eventually worked. After more than a year plaguing Italy, they finally decided to confront my army in summer 554 CE close to Capua, where the revolt of Spartacus had started in the local gladiatorial school six centuries previously

The battlefield was also adjacent to both the Via Appia and the River Volturnus [respectively Appian Way and modern River Volturno – Pueros]. I am pleased to report that in the subsequent pitched conflict, having adopted similar tactics to those used against Totila at Taginae, I utterly annihilated the army of Franks and Alamanni, killing their main generals in the process.

The River Volturnus was turned a horrible red in colour, being awash with the dead bodies of the enemy.

Chapter XXXII – Keys

(Verona, Italy, over 8 years later, November 562 CE)

By early 555 CE, I had succeeded in restoring all of Italy south of the Padus to the Byzantine Empire. However, the subjugation of the regions north of this river, where some Ostrogothic and Frankish strongholds still persisted, took me considerably longer, with the relevant sieges and associated negotiations often being annoyingly protracted.

I, however, did finally manage to recapture the last enemy stronghold of Verona in November 562 CE. I immediately sent the keys of the gates of the city to Justinian I in Constantinople.

The keys were sent as a symbolic gesture, for I had finally, after campaigning for a decade and at the advanced age now of 84 years, completed the restoration of the whole of Italy into the Byzantine Empire. A parallel campaign in Spain, led by another remarkable octogenarian, Liberius, also succeeded in retaking a lot of that country too, on this occasion from the Visigoths.

Consequently, after earlier recovering North Africa, Justinian I had succeeded in his aim of reclaiming for the Byzantines much of the ancient Roman Empire around the Mediterranean Sea.

Chapter XXXIII – Retirement

(Imperial Villa near Neapolis [modern Naples], Italy, Byzantine Empire, about 5½ years later, spring 568 CE)

In return for the symbolic keys to the gates of Verona, Justinian I instructed me to remain in Italy to rule the country as his Prefect there. The Emperor apparently did not want to duplicate his earlier mistake with Belisarius of withdrawing a victorious commander-in-chief and allowing incompetent successors to lose virtually all that had previously been won.

I was pleased to remain Italy as Prefect, even at the advanced age of 84. I too did not want to see all of the hard work of the previous decade lost. The threat from Ostrogoths, Franks and Alamanni had been destroyed but other potential invaders from the north threatened the country, most notably another migrating Germanic people, the Lombards.

I knew the Lombards well, not least because they had provided significant mercenary contingents for my armies. They were excellent but frequently undisciplined fighters, whose main motive for helping the Byzantine cause was always monetary. I had to control them carefully and pay them well and on time if I was to prevent them from securing their own wages through looting even friendly people and places.

The Lombards had by my time migrated south of the Danube to settle in Pannonia [roughly modern eastern Austria, western Hungary and northern former Yugoslavia - Pueros], bordering Illyria to the north. Justinian I had paid them subsidies to remain friendly with the Empire and to support the Byzantines with mercenaries whenever required.

I knew, however, from my extensive spy network and my own suppositions that, having tasted the wealth of Italy during the various campaigns there over the previous decades, they were becoming interested in taking control of the country themselves. They themselves had helped me to destroy the Ostrogoths, Franks and Alamanni and now there were only the Byzantines, led by me, preventing them from realising such an aim, and the native population would not have been unhappy to see us displaced.

Procopius in his dubious history suggests that my rule as Prefect of Italy was unpopular. I concur with him.

Italy had been ravaged by decades of warfare. As a result, much rebuilding, not only of structures but also of shattered communities, was needed and such reconstruction required money, which the parsimonious Justinian I insisted had to be obtained locally.

Consequently, I was compelled to inflict a heavy burden of taxes on the whole population and no one likes paying such weighty levies. However, I believed that such an encumbrance was an unwelcome and nastily tasting but necessary medicine, required to cure Italy of the damage inflicted by her recent travails and designed to return the country quickly to full health. In other words, I considered that short-term discomfort was a worthwhile price to pay for eventual restoration and prosperity.

I was accused by a few enemies, some political and Byzantine, of seriously enriching myself from these taxes, as well as through booty garnered during my previous campaigning in war. According to such slanderers, I had in fact gathered together and hidden a vast treasure.

I can assure you, though, reader of this my life history, that such stories were completely untrue. Over my long lifetime, I had instead simply earned, through my various high offices, sufficient wealth to ensure a comfortable retirement, pampered by a loyal and competent retinue of slaves. Even the villa in which I was to become resident near Neapolis was owned not by me but by the state.

Why at my advanced age, and without family dependants, would I want more, especially a great fortune? My only posthumous financial commitment would be to ensure that my loyal retinue of slaves was well looked after, whilst I sought a simple burial for myself with no expensive tomb.

I believed that I had earned a comfortable retirement after loyally and competently serving three Byzantine Emperors over seven decades. I only did not go on to serve a fourth because he wanted to replace me with his own nominee for Prefect of Italy, whilst offering me no further office.

The Byzantines, and me in particular, were by then unpopular with the native Italians because of the nasty but necessary taxation that I had been forced to impose on them in order to help the rapid recovery of their country. Meanwhile, the Lombards were being pressured in Pannonia by migrating Avars, a Turkic tribe from Asia.

The Lombards, though, made no move against Italy whilst I remained Prefect of the country. Without boasting, I believe that they now had too much respect for me as a military commander to make any such move. After all, they had shared in my victories.

This situation, however, changed in November 565 CE when Justinian I died in Constantinople, coincidentally in the same year that Belisarius had also done so. I grieved for both of them, but in particular for the Emperor to whom I had been very close for over sixty years.

The childless Justinian had suffered a heart attack at the age of 82. He was succeeded by his nephew, Justin, who should not be confused with the military commander in Illyria at the time of the Mediolanum catastrophe of the same name.

One of Justin II’s first actions was to replace me as Prefect of Italy with his own nominee, Longinus, and recall me to Constantinople without an offer of a further position. I believe that he thought, like his predecessor had once done with Belisarius, that I might have become, dangerously for his own throne, over-mighty, as well as, at my advanced age, probably increasingly senile. His decision might perhaps also have been influenced by hearing the slanders about me gathering a vast personal fortune.

I had, though, certainly not become over-mighty in my own mind. I had always remained very loyal to whoever occupied the Byzantine throne and would have continued being so for Justin II. However, after almost 75 years in Imperial service, I was also finally weary of the burdens of high office and my body was beginning to fail. I was therefore ready to accept retirement.

Nevertheless, I had no wish to return to Constantinople, not least because I thought that the long and arduous journey there might finally kill off my now increasingly frail aged body. I had also by now come to love Italy and I therefore requested permission and was eventually begrudgingly granted my wish to retire instead to the Imperial villa near Neapolis.

Three years later, whilst enjoying my retirement in this villa, the Lombards, led by their king, Alboin, invaded Italy, not just with their army but with all of their half-million people.

Chapter XXXIV – Revelations

(Imperial Villa near Neapolis [modern Naples], Italy, Byzantine Empire, over 5 years later, summer 573 CE)

Despite my age and frailty, I immediately proffered my services to Justin II and Longinus to help repel the Lombard invasion and so retain the legacy in Italy that I had laboured to secure for the Byzantine Empire. However, they declined my offer.

I knew that Longinus was jealous of my previous successes and wanted to achieve his own without my help, which might detract from the glory he sought. Justin II, probably influenced by his new Prefect in Italy, appeared just to consider me now to be simply too infirm for campaigning.

Justin II might have been correct in terms of my physical state. However, as I have stated at the beginning of this narrative about my life history, I believe that my mind was still as sharp as ever and could again have contributed to another Byzantine success in Italy. Alas, though, I was not given the opportunity to help.

Justin II instead relied on Longinus and the result was disaster for his cause in Italy. The new Prefect proved incapable of halting an inexorable Lombard advance, first into the north of the country and subsequently slowly down the peninsula.

The Lombards were aided in their advance by no longer being tempted to destroy and pillage. They instead went against their normal military character and generally respected the native communities they encountered. Their current ultimate aim was to settle and assimilate because they had now been run out of Pannonia by the belligerent and more numerous Avars.

Consequently, the despondent and war-weary native northern Italians quickly accepted the Lombards as their new suzerains. The early evidence suggests that the peoples coexist well and so I suspect that in the long-term they will indeed assimilate through inter-marriage, with the newcomers probably adopting the superior local language and culture [which did indeed happen, hence the modern region of northern Italy called Lombardy – Pueros].

Despite the fact that the Lombards eventually approached Neapolis, I made no attempt to escape from my retirement villa to somewhere less imperilled. I had no stomach for personal flight and anyway I was sure that, if the invaders did conquer the city and environs, I would be in no personal danger.

I believed that the Lombards still respected me and would allow me to continue my retirement in peace. After all, we had shared many past glories together.

As events eventually materialised, though, Neapolis, along with Ravenna in the north, Rome and much of southern Italy remain in Byzantine hands, linked by territorial corridors, at the time that I narrate this history of my life to my scribe. The Lombards simply did not possess a military force big enough to conquer the whole of the country.

My refusal, however, to leave my retirement villa near Neapolis has led to further slanders about me from political enemies. I have been accused of actually inviting the Lombards to attack Italy in the first place.

One theory relating to my apparent motive is supposedly my unhappiness at being compulsorily retired by Justin II. Another is that I was insulted in a letter from his wife, the Empress Sophia. Seemingly, I therefore remained near Neapolis, eagerly awaiting the subsequent success of the invaders. I can assure you, though, reader of this my life history, that such tales are absurd slanders.

I instead now just remain in my retirement villa near Neapolis awaiting God to call me to His Realm. However, before He does so, I should perhaps reveal to you, reader of my autobiography, two aspects of my early life that I have withheld from you until now.

I have withheld one of these aspects until now because recalling the associated events still causes me a lot of mental anguish. I have not yet appraised you about the other because my transgression, in succumbing to youthful sinful temptation, is against the rulings of Holy Church, for which I now seek God’s forgiveness.

I, however, believe that I have to confess to you, reader of my autobiography, both of these aspects of my early existence because they should explain a lot about my later life. I am keen to put everything into proper precise context so that my narrated history proves truly worthwhile for posterity by being candidly accurate in revealing the background behind a number of the circumstances in which I found myself.

My initial revelation will first clarify why I had to leave in boyhood my homeland of eastern Armenia, where I was no longer an acceptable member of contemporary society, for Constantinople, where attitudes were different. Second, it will disclose why many people were prejudiced towards me, and were especially outraged and contemptuous about my assumption of important military positions in particular. Third, it will elucidate why I could never be a candidate for the throne and so be a rival to the incumbent Emperor regardless of how successful I became. Fourth, it will explain why I did not marry or have children, or grow facial hair, as is the universal fashion for most men in my era.

My other revelation will reveal a key reason why I was so loyally attached for over sixty years to Justinian I.

Chapter XXXV – Harem

(Ctesiphon, Persian Empire [now just ruins about 32 kilometres, or 20 miles, south-east of modern Baghdad, Iraq], 90 years previously, summer 483 CE)

In summer 483 CE, the latest rebellion against Persian rule in my homeland of eastern Armenia was going badly. Shah Peroz I had sent a mighty army led by his best general to crush the revolt.

Many of the rebels in my homeland, including my father and grandfather, had been forced to flee into neighbouring Byzantine Armenia. By doing so, they left their estates badly exposed to Persian attack.

My own father’s estate was duly attacked by elements of the Persian army in the summer of 483 CE when I was just a 5-year-old infant. My unprotected mother, younger sister and me were, along with our servants and slaves, taken by surprise and, as a result, were all easily captured.

The Persians considered us all as booty. Consequently, we were all eventually taken, with other copious non-human plunder from our estate, back to their capital of Ctesiphon on the eastern bank of the River Tigris [now just ruins about 32 kilometres, or 20 miles, south-east of modern Baghdad, Iraq – Pueros]. There, we were all separated.

I was subsequently not to meet my mother or younger sister for almost two years. I was never to see our servants and slaves again because they were sold at market and dispersed around Persia.

I believe that I was a rather pretty boy and, also being from a noble family, was therefore considered worthy to become a young slave in the Persian King of King’s magnificent palace in Ctesiphon. In particular, I was judged ideal to be a minion of the Shah’s many concubines in his harem, undoubtedly partly as humiliating revenge for my father being a major Armenian rebel. Unfortunately for me, there was also a certain pre-qualification needed to assume such a position.

I soon discovered what comprised this pre-qualification. After a few days being starved and purged, I found myself strapped humiliatingly naked, upright and spreadeagled on an ancient bloodstained wooden table in an obscure part of the palace, where no member of the royal family or harem would normally ever venture. To add to my discomfort, my immature genitals had been tightly bound around the base by cord, whilst a sharp knife began an incision into my scrotum.

Not long afterwards, my tiny testicles were soon resting in a small bowl placed between my spreadeagled legs, whilst the genital wound inflicting my now empty scrotum was carefully and skilfully stitched.

Chapter XXXVI – Homecoming

(Greater Aršarunik [in modern times the plain on both sides of the upper reaches of the River Aras, split between Turkey & Armenia], Persian Marzpanate of Armenia, almost 2 years later, spring 485 CE)

My career as an infant eunuch in the Persian King of King’s harem thankfully proved short-lived. I was grateful for this development not just because of the diminution of my status from Armenian nobleman’s son and heir to testicle-less slave minion.

I was, in fact, not at all badly treated by my eunuch superiors in the harem, or by the many concubines, who treated me more as a pretty pet than as a slave minion. I did, though, frequently hear comments that, because of my great beauty, I was surely someday bound myself for the King of King’s bed and, despite my tender age, I was not so naïve that I did not know what such a suggestion meant. In the situation that I found myself, I had grown up quickly and I did not relish the inferred prospect.

Fortunately for me, the death of Peroz I at the hands of the Hephthalites and the subsequent peace agreement between his successor, Balash, and the Armenian rebels brought my release. One of the clauses of the Treaty of Nvarsak entailed the exchange of all prisoners and, as I was one who could readily be located, unlike our sold servants and slaves, I was returned to my father and our family estate in Greater Aršarunik in spring 485 CE.

Also simultaneously returned were my mother and younger sister, who had thankfully encountered no harm. They had just been comfortably imprisoned as hostages, awaiting developments in Armenia.

I, though, was returned as damaged goods and there was an abhorrence of eunuchs in contemporary eastern Armenian society. Not only was castration against the precepts of the local Church but also the associated physical alteration was considered to be too closely associated with the country’s hated Persian overlords for people of my kind to be tolerated.

Attitudes in contemporary Byzantine society, however, were different. Eunuchs there were welcomed into positions where they had intimate contact with women and even preferred for powerful bureaucratic posts because they could never aspire to the throne and become a rival to the Emperor.

My parents, after recovering from the initial shock and upset at what the Persians had perpetrated on me, therefore quickly planned for me to take up a bureaucratic career in Constantinople as soon as I had received a good education. I must thank them for their wisdom.

My parents are, of course, now long dead but I believe that they would have been proud of what I later achieved in the career that they had set up for me.

Chapter XXXVII – Lover

(Imperial Palace, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire [modern Istanbul, Turkey], over 15 years later, summer 500 CE)

In the summer of 500 CE, I was a 22 year-old archivist in the Imperial Palace in Constantinople. People could easily tell that I was a eunuch because I possessed no facial hair. This phenomenon also allowed me at the time to retain much of my pretty boyish looks and as a result I was the target of many libidinous homo- or bi- sexuals at court, as I had been since my arrival. However, I was initially not interested in succumbing to their approaches, even if my career might have been boosted by becoming the bed partner of someone of importance.

Most of the men who tried to woo me into their beds quickly gave up after I had refuted their attempts. After all, there were plenty of other pretty eunuchs and pageboys around the Imperial Palace who might be more congenial.

One 17 year-old junior Excunbitor, though, who was half a decade younger than me but looked older because his neatly trimmed brown beard gave him a mature look, was much more persistent. He refused to give up so easily and courted me long and hard, ignoring my rebuffs.

The Excubitor proved so persistent in a very charming way that, after extensive courting on his part, I eventually succumbed to his approaches, partly, I must confess, out of personal interest as to whether I might gain some pleasure out of our relationship. As a eunuch, I had never previously been party to any sexual act, either individually or with someone else. However, I had heard that being the passive partner in the act of sodomy could bring great enjoyment to someone like me.

I was aware that homosexuality and sodomy were great sins. However, I also knew that they were commonly practised within the Imperial Palace and elsewhere and, amidst the more carefree and sadly less Godly attitudes of my youth, I succumbed to both.

Despite barely leaving adolescence behind, the young Excubitor certainly proved his manliness in bed. He also proved to be, for someone undoubtedly inexperienced, a very passionate but skilful lover.

The young Excubitor proved very gentle and considerate. As a result, he helped me overcome my early pain to gain instead great pleasure thereafter from our mutual lovemaking.

Our secret liaisons lasted for a few years until we gradually parted as lovers. Our mutual passion for each other simply faded as we matured further. He became increasingly interested in women, whilst my blossoming career in the Imperial bureaucracy was occupying more and more of my own time.

No formal parting was ever enacted. We just ceased our secret liaisons and I subsequently never had another sexual partner. I was grateful for the pleasure gained from our relationship but afterwards my interest in sinful sex disappeared and I concentrated on my career.

The young Excubitor and I were in reality lovers only in terms of our sexual passion for each other. When such interest mutually faded, we both realised that we would remain intimate friends but no more.

Our friendship was to prove close for life, though, and no one ever learnt about our youthful sexual relationship, not even that scurrilous rogue Procopius. Otherwise, I am sure that that particular sexual scandal would have appeared in his ‘Secret History’.

You see, reader of this my life history, the young Excubitor, who was my youthful lover, later became Emperor Justinian I.

Chapter XXXVIII – Postscript

(Imperial Villa near Neapolis [modern Naples], Italy, Byzantine Empire, 73 years later, summer 573 CE)

My master’s narrative of his life history has finished and now his scribe writes these words.

My master’s confession about his youthful lover ended his life history in more ways than one because, after revealing the fact, he suddenly began to doze off, as he was frequently prone to do in his old age. He also sadly never reopened his eyes because he quietly died in his sleep, whilst still seated in the warm sunshine of his villa’s pleasant garden, with a blanket covering his aged knees and legs. Some worthy wine was as usual at hand, whilst the nice sounds of birds, bees and crickets, plus the sea washing the nearby shore of the Bay of Neapolis, could be heard in the background.

On the orders of Pope John III, my late master’s body was subsequently sent to Rome in great honour in a lead-lined coffin for onward transport to Constantinople for a magnificent state funeral hosted by Emperor Justin II. Meanwhile, all of his slaves, including myself, have been freed with substantial legacies that should set us up for life.

In return for my late master’s many kindnesses, in life and now death, I am currently finishing my last duty for him. I have been proof-reading this narrative history of his life and I hope that I have been successful in eradicating any grammatical errors. I also thought that this brief postscript might prove useful to future readers in rectifying some omissions.

I note, for example, that my late master modestly did not mention the nickname fondly afforded to him by many admiring Byzantines. He was called by them ‘Malleus Gothorum’ [‘Hammer of the Goths’ – Pueros].

I additionally note that my late master, who for his remarkable achievements during a very long life must surely be regarded as the greatest eunuch who ever lived [many modern historians, including myself, certainly do so – Pueros], has not even mentioned his own name, which was also that of his father.

My late master was of the noble Armenian house of Kamsarakan and was, of course, named Narses.

THE END

of

BYZANTINES IV: MALLEUS GOTHORUM

by Pueros